The Replacement
by Panic at the Beatles Disco
Summary: The Fowl family has been left scared and divided after their son's disappearance. His father has become a cold, cruel man once again, and to compensate for his son he adopts a 12 year old girl and brutaly forces Artemis' personna on her. Read please!
1. Prologue

Prologue

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**Author's note:**

**This story was written while listening to Nothing else Matters by David Garret, it's a verry sad Violin song, I suggest you listen to it while reading this Fanfiction. Replay it if it ends befory your finished this chapter. Hope you like it. takes place in the three years when Artemis is fighting the demons in the Lost Colony. Sorry if I get some facts wrong latter on in the story. I hope you enjoy.**

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It rained heavily over Fowl manor. The world out side seemed like a blurry, deformed reality. And for Angeline fowl, the rain drenching the windows had nothing to do with it. Her son was gone. And because of that, the world had become a twisted, unfamiliar place. She sat huddled up on his bed, which he had not slept in for the better part of a year. Hugging his pillow to her chest as if cradling her missing Arty, whilst staring desolately at the bleak landscape through the foggy, rain washed window across his bed. Where was he? It was all so surreal. Eight months before, Butler had appeared pale at their door, a defeated look about him. He would not answer any of their questions when they found Artemis not to be with him. Until he reached the living room, he then sank into the nearest chair and said for them to sit. And he then told them how, in some mad adventure in Taiwan he had lost their son. Artemis Fowl The First, looked quickly to her his baffled expression reflecting the fear in her own. She looked, panicked, back to the large man, who had slumped over in the chair clutching the arms, not meeting her eyes. All she remembered next was the sound of her screams.

She knew it was the truth. Because the same feeling flooded into her when her husband went missing. It's a sensation that everyone fears feeling, or for those rare, honorable people, fear causing. It was that choking feeling you got in your core, that something was crushing your heart into a thousand pieces, but you could still feel each fragment as they were beaten smaller, and smaller until you were certain everything would disappear. Such a burden was excruciating, enough to drive many mad. It had been, once, enough to drive her mad.

So why wasn't she mad _now?_

Her sanity felt like insult to injury. at least before she could pretend her lost one was still there, even if it was just through dolls or delusional memories, at least she could still be with them…

_But you weren't with him. You left him alone. _And that was a guilt that pained her most. To sooth her own pain she had left her son alone. Not a night had passed since she had gotten news of his disappearance, had that thought not haunted her. How could she? And it wasn't just that, it was everything she might have done to upset him, even the things she was sure he didn't remember, they all seemed like evidence of her incompetence as a mother. She heard footsteps in the hall, but knew better than to expect the belonged to someone looking for her. In the months that had passed between his disappearance, her husband had again become the single minded, cold, business obsessed man that had raised Artemis. Almost completely shutting out his wife, to mount extensive searches for his son, using any means necessary, legality be damned. All without the aid of the former body guard to their son. Who, had left shortly after his somber report, to a small house away from the manor. She had been out to visit him, for the support her husband was lacking, and, true, Butler had been helpful enough, but even she could tell he had taken his loss just as hard as she had, you would never tell by looking at him, but she could smell the alcohol staining his breath, and quite a bit of his home. Months passed and their visits became more and more infrequent, and more and more uncomfortable. Until neither could stand being in the same room as each other, Butler because of his growing guilt, and Angeline because of the small pang of resentment she felt when ever she saw him. Artemis I had developed a resentment of the deepest kind towards the body guard and personally blamed him for his sons disappearance.

It startled her, even now, to realize what a vital link Artemis had become. All around her, her world was falling apart at the seams, without him. Everything was falling apart.

She grasped the pillow closer to her chest and let out a low groan as she felt her heart throb. She buried her face in the soft linen, her tears staining the fine fabric, and her sobs and moans muffled by the pillow. "Oh, Artemis come back!" She screamed. She shifted her weight and huddled in the corner of her bed whimpering his name over and over again.

The footsteps stopped outside her door.

Artemis Fowl I, slumped against the door frame of his son's room. His hands covering his eyes, trying to block out his wife's tortured screams. _This is your fault. You can't find him fast enough._ He pounded at the wall Letting out a low moan, his legs curling inward. He doubled over, his face covered by his hands, the darkness oddly comforting. He felt the joints in his real leg numb. And let out a broken laugh at the memory of them attaching his fake one. How Artemis had looked so concerned. "He was a good boy…" he groaned. "And now he's gone. And I don't know how to get him back…" He felt tears dampen the darkness in a moment of weakness. But he would not surrender entirely to despair. What would his son think when he found him? He already had to see his father without his leg. To let him see him without his sense? Never.

Angeline let out another torturous shriek. "_Artemis come back!_"

He froze then. Removing his hands from his face.

His name. Both their names. And suddenly he felt the numbness dissipate for a moment, and he found himself getting off the floor, and crossing the threshold into Artemis' room. Angeline looked up then, her tear stained face twisted with a mixture of bewilderment, and surprise. No doubt he looked almost as disheveled and broken as she did. She continued her sobs but never took her eyes off him, as he crossed the room towards her. He climbed onto the bed beside her and reached forward to take the pillow from her, knowing what he must do at the moment. She pulled back in defiance and covered the thing from view, sensing what he intended to do. But he pressed forward and snatched the pillow from her. She screamed hollowly as it left her reach, but he didn't stop. He flung the thing across the bed and wrapped his arms around her, and held her tightly. "It'll be alright. I'll make it right." he repeated over and over into her hair. "I'll make it right." She groaned against his shoulder. "I want him back, My Arty, I want him _here again._" She sobbed.

"I know… and we'll find him, well have him." he said

"But how? You've searched the world we can't find him!"

"We _will_ find him, even if we have to make him ourselves." He said, and pulled her bewildered face to face his. Angeline looked down to her stomach, at a loss for what he meant. He pulled her face up again. "No. we'll have him _Now._" Her confusion did not lift. He brought his face closer to hers and whispered,

"We can adopt."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

She breathed in blissfully, Her luggage trailing behind her making a repetitive *clack* as it's wheels passed over tiles. She looked around at the busy throng of people walking in all directions around her. She grinned, her eyes shining with exhilaration. She doubled her pace. She felt a warm hand fall on her shoulder. "Whoa, our flight's not leaving for another half hour!" Said her father. He had a kind look. A good, strong jaw, a young, clean shaven face with just a hint of crows feet around the piercing blue eyes.

"I want to get to the book store, I finished this one." She said, pulling from under her arm a worn copy of a book about the size of her head. Her father ran a hand through his dark, grey flecked hair. "Already? It took me two months to finish it." he muttered warily. She flushed, adding some color to her pale complexion. He just cracked a smile and laughed heartily. "Jesus kid! Your _seven!_ Where do you get this from?" She smiled too. And the two walked off, smiling like idiots.

Everything shifted.

Fire.

Everywhere.

A gaping hole in the hull, filling the ship's cargo space with lethal artic water. The entire frame of the ship convulsed as the it was hit again, explosions blooming to life on deck. The control room was ablaze. The heat of the inferno smashing the windows to scalding shards of glass. The hellish flames lapped up the rush of new air and expanded, catching onto the sleeve of his captain's uniform.

He stumbled back, away from the fire. He felt cindering walls press against his back.

The end of the line.

He heard a low hiss from the pipes. It grew louder, like an angry snake.

The heat smothered him, he could not breath without burning his lungs with sweltering, dry air.

The lack of oxygen numbed him. His vision blurred, slowly the other senses lost their sharpness and clarity.

Above the center of the fire a pipe shuddered, breaking it's bond from the ceiling before bursting its self.

Gas rushed from the opening, filling all the space in the room.

He closed his eyes, he was beyond feeling now.

In that last moment, all the things that were supposed to happen when you were about to die sailed before him.

He saw his life flash before his eyes, starting from early childhood, his parents, his siblings, his friends. To his teenage years, to early adulthood, to now, his dying moment. While he was reliving every second of his life he also prayed.

He was, by no stretch of the imagination, religious.

But something inside him called for it. He prayed to every god he could think of, and a few he'd unofficially believed in himself.

The gas ignited. The explosion spreading towards him in less than a millisecond.

In the finite stretch of time before the deadly points of light reached him, his little life movie ended with one last thought. Like the credits scrolling along the screen.

_I'm sorry Diana. _

Diana screamed

She shoved a fist in her mouth to stop another. She bit down hard for good measure.

She breathed in heavily through her nose, the dry, dusty air making her nostrils burn.

She pulled her fist from her mouth, the pale skin glistened with saliva, and teeth marks were imprinted on her knuckles, but it didn't matter.

She buried her face in her pillows holding her breath to choke back sobs, she felt exposed in the crowded dorms, girls were sleeping just a few mere feet from her bed.

She was still shaky, but she managed to tone her breathing down to quiet gasps.

She brought her head up, careful not to make the rusty bed springs squeak, and surveyed the cots around her.

Had she woken anyone?

All around her, under their covers, were the other girls, sleeping, seemingly oblivious to her panic.

Relived she'd woken no one, she lowered herself back into bed, and drew up the sheets.

When in the next room over a girl squealed. And moaned. Making her bed springs creak. Accompanied by a barrage of howls and grunts.

Bump, bump, bump…

Went the slut and the player.

_And this place is run by nuns_. She thought.

And then shivered.

If those were the saints, then she'd hate to meet the sinners.

But of course she had.

Bump, bump…

She pulled a flat pillow over her ears, and buried her face in the mattress.

_It's over._ She panted as the girl screamed again. The boy howled sending chills down her spine. _It's over, it's not him. _She convinced herself, forcing the memories into the deepest depths of her mind.

"He's not here. He's gone your safe." She whispered against the mattress. The sounds climaxed, the squeak of the springs, the ragged breaths, the grunts and groans bursting through the walls as if they weren't there.

The boy laughed softly.

It started as the blissful laugh of a teen, but then mingled with her own memories and morphed into the gravely, sadistic cackle of a drunk.

She shut her eyes tighter, and pulled the thin sheets closer, She felt exposed.

His face flashed before her eye lids.

The wild hair, his stubbly chin. The veins pressing up from the skin in red lines that told of alcohol abuse, and cold, black eyes.

This was it.

She felt a scream build in her throat. She bit down against it.

She'd wake the others up...

She gasped and bolted up as someone touched her back.

She looked around, expecting to see him standing over her, the way he would before he…

But to her relief, he wasn't there.

She heard a whimper at the foot of her bed. She looked down, to see a young, scared looking girl.

"What's happening? Is someone hurting that girl?" She whimpered.

Diana was surprised, and relived to only see her. She quickly pulled a warm smile and drooped her shoulders tiredly, skillfully feigning calm.

She looked down at her kindly, and sighed. She must have only been six.

"No, but they sure are making noise aren't they?" She said nonchalantly.

The little girl nodded. "I'm scared." she whispered.

Diana shook her head, not letting any of her former panic show.

"Nothing to be scared of." She said reassuringly. The girl seemed to relax slightly.

Diana laid back still facing her, one arm over her center, the other hand cradling her pillow.

Open.

Inviting.

The little girl found herself climbing onto the cot with her, and curling up beside her, resting her head in the crook of her elbow. Her breathing slowed into deep breaths as she quickly fell asleep.

Diana was inwardly glad the little girl was there. She felt warm, and more at ease.

She pulled the sheets up over the two of them and nestled into the mattress, before falling asleep as well.

**Well, I hope you liked it. And I hope you like Diana, or at least have potential to like her. Beacuse for the majority of the story she's going to be the main character. This chapter was mainly to introduce her, so don't mind the lack of Artemis Fowl characters. Review! please. **


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Early dawn breezed into the room in pale wisps. Most of the sky outside was still deciding between day and night, but day, with its pale, white washed rain cloud complexion seemed on the verge of victory.

The grey morning light trickled over the window sills through the folds of stained, and patched curtains, which were scattered every few meters or so apart from each other.

The dorms where quiet, no one yet stirred.

Girls between the ages of six to twelve occupied each cot. Each drifting aimlessly in the fathoms of sleep.

Weak streams of light glazed over the low metal head board of a bed occupied by a pair, and then moved on to creep over the pillows, and the inky locks strewn around the older girl's head like an ebony halo. The light continued to advance past her hair line until it stopped just over her eye lids.

She stirred after a moment, her eyelids peeking open. She closed them tight again, and with a subdued, shuttering sigh she snapped them open. She then repeated the gesture, blinking the last remnants of sleep form her eyes, tight from dried tears that had escaped during the night.

Her eyes darted over every inch of the dim room, running over every detail in her mind until she came up with a name to match the place.

The night before she had opened the curtain beside her bed a fraction, knowing in the morning it would let in a small sliver of light, and a view of the outside.

Whether she woke up at the right time was entirely up to chance.

She allowed a small grin to grace her face. (And only because she knew no one could be watching.) She raised her head, shrugging out from under the covers, when a pressure on her shoulder stopped her cold.

Her startled eyes drifted down the crook of her left elbow.

She grimaced, irritated. Nestled in the crook of her arm was a girl, about six. Her short blond hair tangled around her small head ungracefully, the corners of her mouth moist with drool.

_Hasn't she got the sense to get back to her own bed? _she hissed inwardly.

"_You know, she sort of reminds me of you, back then…" _He started. She grit her teeth biting back response, instead she focused on prying her from her arm without waking her. She had places to be, and the last thing she wanted was a tag along.

She slowly loosed each finger from her forearm and gently pulled her way out. With that done, she swung her legs over the bed side, and dropped to the carpeted floor, careful as always to make as least noise as possible.

She lowered herself to the carpet, and stuck her hand in the crevice between the ground and the bed frame. She groped blindly for another minute, before her fingers closed around the grip.

She dragged her arm from under the bed, along with a charcoal violin case.

Her eyes, a rich mahogany, gleamed with admiration at her most prized position.

She stood, letting the case rest at her side. She peeked in the sliver opening she'd left in the curtains.

She nodded; perfect.

She turned for the door, her footsteps muffled by the matting.

When his words rang in her ear again.

_She sort of reminds me of you, back then…_

She turned back to the bed, and surveyed the girl, who was still sleeping.

Gently, she pulled the beddings up over her exposed shoulders. It would be cold soon. She smoothed the sheets out, erasing the signs that she was ever there, and with that, left for the door.

The sky was a layered grey to the east and an inky midnight blue to the west. With an odd line down the center.

She breathed deeply. Letting the riche scent of the rain soaked earth immerse her. She stooped to her ankles to retrieve the charcoal case from the ground, and stepped out from the open doorway.

Her shoe heels made soft clacks as she strode over the damp cement, her case swinging with her arm as she walked. She got halfway down the steps when he finally piped up.

"tch, tch. Leaving the premises without permission, such a naughty girl… always were such a naughty, girl. Naughty, naughty …"

Each 'naughty' emphasized with a clap of his palms keeping rhythm with her steps. She shook her head, denying his voice.

"Naughty, naughty, _naughty girl…_"

The sound of her foot falls died to muffles squishes as the terrain changed from damp cement to wet earth. The untrimmed grass folded under her feet leaving shallow imprints. Mud caked the soles of her shoes, but it didn't matter. She didn't wear these shoes in the home. She trudged forward, pulling up the collar of her trench coat against the chilly wind. Just when she'd felt a glimmer of hope he'd keep silent, his voice started again. She grit her teeth ignoring the words that swam through her mind like a swarm of locusts.

"Oh, Di, Di-Di-Di-Di-Di. You always do this Di, honey- wander off like this, you know you could try making some friends. All you'd have to do is use that _tongue _and talk for a while. Your good at that aren't you? You could get a puritan into a brothel with your _sweet_ silver tongue. Hmm… Diana Silver-tongue, has a nice ring to it. But you know what? I have a feeling it hasn't been used in a while, you'd better put it to some sort of use soon, or that silver might turn to worthless rust."

She paid no response, but instead stayed silent keeping her eyes fixed on the instinctive path she was following.

"Hey, I know, how about you practice on me? Just strike up a conversation. Why not?

You know I'll be there…

listening…

watching…

waiting…"

She again, paid no response, and kept silent.

But inside she was screaming- _GET OUT OF MY HEAD!_

He chuckled. And in a persuasive purr breathed: "You want me gone don't you? …You want me to leave your memory and disappear like the phantom I am, and leave you to your own silly little masquerade of a life."

She stopped dead in her tracks. Fingers curling tighter around the handle as her hands involuntarily clenched into quaking fists. But still, she said nothing.

"Did you ever think, maybe you can?

_Persuade me, _Di.

Use that _sweet_ silver tongue and _turn_ me away. Like the puritan going to that brothel. _Persuade me _to go, Diana!" he rasped.

She kept on walking, swinging the violin case with such vigor as if beating away at an unseen enemy. He sighed disappointed, and trailed behind her.

Her foot falls shifted again to soft rustles and crunches as she stepped over the scattered twigs, leaves and shrubs that littered the woodland ground below her.

She was feeling more at ease. She was almost there, She would have her release.

"This trip seems such a hassle in the morning." he muttered. "And for what? To play those dusty old strings in front of an audience of rocks and trees-"

"You know, you can just shut up now." said idly. "Where I'm going, what I'm _going_ to do, you wont be able to _touch _me." She paused on the spot and smirked at the thought.

A predatory smile curled his lips. The hair on the back of her neck stood up on end and she knew she'd made a mistake.

"Oh really? That's real sweet Di. But you know better." His voice drifted, as if he was moving. She circled around instinctively, surveying the land around her, waiting.

"I've always been able to _touch _you." He breathed in her ear. She swung he violin case behind her, aiming where it hurts, but she only collided with air.

She came full circle, kicking up leaves as she came spinning to a halt.

"Always."

The wind felt like his breath against her neck.

She shrieked in utter anguish and collapsed to the ground, convulsing against _him. _But she couldn't get away, the leaves, soft and loose with the past rain, felt like the materials of his shirt, the pebbles- the buckle of his belt, slowly loosening…

She bucked and kicked and shuttered harder than ever. But it was no use, the twigs and roots where his hands and arms, pinning her down to the earthy bed…

"_No! __No _no no no _NO- AHHHEEEAHH!" _She screeched over and over, like the banshees of Irish lore, more a prayer than any mantra.

"STOP_ PLEASE STOP!" _She begged. She wanted it to end. She didn't want this, she didn't want this, _she didn't want this._

But she knew he hadn't had his fill yet.

It went on like this for another fifteen minutes. Somewhere in that stretch of time (if not long before) tears, fat and brutal flooded from her eyes. Until she finally felt it pass.

She pulled herself up, leaves and twigs tangled in her inky hair, her face a desolate mask, showing no signs of emotions save for the wet streaks from the corner of her eyes to the hair line. And the eyes. Those rich mahogany iris' dead, and vacant of the spark of life they'd held but five years prier.

She looked down at the black violin case. It lay closed on the ground a few mere feet from her, a couple of leaves resting on top.

She looked down at her feet where she'd broken down earlier and wondered, could she even _have _her release?

She picked up the case, shook of the leaves and things, and turned back. Decided.

No, she couldn't.

**So, What'd you think? I tried to have this whole episode be as traumatizing as it could for Diana. **

**Please tell me what you think of the man. I haven't decided a name for him yet, but you'll find out who he was later. ****Sorry for the long update. **

**I've said it one and I'll say it again, Writer's block is a BITCH! I hope this chapter was to your liking! I stayed up until 1:53 am working on it. So review, PLEASE. **


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Angeline watched from the window as they led the boy away.

They had gotten him from an orphanage a total of three weeks ago. He was a sweet boy. Bright too, else they wouldn't have chosen him. But Artemis wasn't satisfied, and Arty was his son too.

He was kicking and screaming, the butler (A butler, not The Butler.) was practically dragging him into the car. He death glared Artemis, who was surveying the drama from the manor's grand steps. The boy shouted something else. She never learned to lip read, but the pained, betrayed look on his features, told her he was begging.

A strange look came over her husband. And it occurred to her that she did not care for it, in fact, it scared her.

Artemis strode from the steps, eyes merciless. The boy missed the coldness, and mistook the intention. He stopped struggling. The butler was urgently forcing him into the car, but the boy didn't move. His expression tweaked, his eyes glimmered with the slightest hope. As Artemis stalked forward, he called the butler off with a wave of his hand. He paled, but did as requested, a guilty look plastered on his features.

Artemis loomed over him, sneering as he surveyed the hapless boy who remained all but completely oblivious.

He raised his hand.

The boy stared breathlessly at him.

His eyes were cruel.

He look pleadingly up at him.

And Artemis brought his palm down on his face.

The boy was thrown to the ground with the force of the strike, a resounding *SLAP* rang in the air. Angeline's hand flew to her mouth in a horrified gasp.

She shot up from her seat. Really this was too much. This wasn't right! She had to stop this!

She rushed to the door, her robe fluttering out behind her as she ran.

She looked out the window as she fled the room, eyes fixed on the scene outside. She watched her husband especially, willing him to leave the boy alone.

He was just a boy after all.

She shifted her gaze to him then, the boy. And what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks.

His cheek was red from where he'd been struck.

His clothes were dirty and disheveled from his fall.

And his eyes were wet with tears.

She felt all sympathy for the boy shrivel and die inside of her, and she found herself sneering down at him, the way her husband had. She clasped her hand around her wrist in utter distain. Her gripped tightened, leaving imprints on the skin as his tears flowed more freely.

She walked back to her seat overlooking the scene. Sitting down on the plush cushions eyes still fixed on the boy, who had now begun to shake with the force of his sobs.

She frowned down at him from her perch by the window, regarding him with the utmost contempt. Her husband was right: this child really was _pathetic_.

Her Arty would never sob like that.

Her Arty was better than that.

_He_ was a Fowl.

And he deserved that title.

This sniveling _child_ was a worthless substitute, and she would not have it.

The boy finally picked himself of the drive, (She would be sure to have it cleaned later.) largely supported by the butler who looked a bit sick himself, and sank out of sight into the car that would send him back to what ever place he'd come from in the first place.

She eyed the car until it finally disappeared over the crest of a hill, and even then her eyes traced over the path the car had tread with disgust and hatred.

"That's right, get the imposter away from here. Get him out _I want him gone_!" She hissed.

She reached to her lap, where laid a framed picture of her son, the _Genuine _article.

It was just a school photo, but it displayed him quite well, the flash caught in his eyes, but you could not miss the intellectual look to his midnight blue irises.

He could out wit any boy his age, he could out wit _college professors- _no_- brain surgeons! _She was sure he could find a way to go back in time given the means!

She traced his jaw. The pale skin, fair, well cared for. His hair a deep raven, and the eyes, they didn't display them as well in this photo, but she knew them from memory. She saw them every day in his father.

Beautiful eyes. Unique eyes. Exclusive to the Fowl clan, superior eyes.

She looked over the picture again, and her heart ached as only a mother's can.

Her boy was wonderful, unique, superior.

_Perfect._

* * *

Artemis Fowl Sr. Watched the car drive off with a bitter sort of satisfaction.

He'd known he didn't have what it took to be a Fowl, he didn't need to test him much to know , but _Angeline _insisted she saw potential. She of course was wrong.

He'd known the second they'd come home, he didn't fit.

He knew from the beginning that it would be difficult to find some one to fill _his_ shoes. But this boy was way off the mark. His posture was horrid, what little Latin he knew was pitiful, and his attempts at the family trade were laughable.

He didn't even come close to Artemis.

And Artemis, of course, was perfect.

He pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen opening a file.

He scrolled down the list of names and addresses until he found the home the boy had come from. He ticked the box icon beside the name with an X and looked to the next name on the list.

_St. Cathwell's home for abandoned youth. _

He nodded at the name, and pocketed the phone.

_We'll see what we find._

* * *

**_We'll I hope you like it. I don't have much to say except, thanks to those who reviewed, and to those who havn't What are you waiting for?_**

**_I'd like to hear what you have in mind for later chapters. I have the story planned, but hearing from you might help kill writer's block. Also, try to include words and definitions, just beacuse vocabulary can be a big problem when writing for me._**

**_Thanks._**

**_Review. Please._**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The interior of the auto motive currently transporting the remainder of the Fowl family was of a simple, spacious design. Plush grey upholstery lining two sets of back seats which faced each other behind a small work table, similar in design to a small sofa or loveseat, separated from the driver by a black tinted glass screen.

Angeline had rolled down the window on her end, letting blasting gusts of air cool her skin and toss her hair as the countryside raced passed them.

The wind roared in their ears into a chasm silence which seemed to keep growing with each click of her husbands key board and passing tree.

And there were so many trees.

Finally, Artemis sighed and lowered the lid of his laptop. "Shut that." he said tiredly. But she left it open, finding comfort in the roaring wind. "I said to _shut _it."

The effect was slightly muted by the wind, but Angeline still found herself flinching. She clicked the switch on her armrest and the glass immediately began to rise.

But the silence still roared deafeningly.

It made her uneasy.

"You were right about him." she blurted out before the statement fully registered in her mind.

She continued, "The eyes were wrong."

As the words fell into the bottomless chasm, Angeline rolled her head to watch the trees go by, and Artemis rolled down his window.

* * *

She trudged through the grass field on her way back from the woods.

He was silent now, she imagined, else she'd gone deaf to every thing besides the sounds of the forest behind her, the rustling of her own footsteps crumpling the untamed grass under her, the wind, the sound of her ragged heart beat-

and her sobs.

She clenched her jaw, and refused to move any further until she had succeeded in silencing them. Her throat clenched rebelliously, but she held her ground and with one last shaking breath she opened her eyes. Looking ahead, the grass became more organized and trim, and after that became yellow and beyond that a yellow and dead fringe around the pavement path from the front steps to the back court yard.

She walked across these subtle differences in terrain, but when she got to the side walk she stopped, and turned her head to the dim sunrise, for once slightly annoyed she could not see the sun.

If it was anywhere between five to seven, she could still use the front entrance with out detection, but if it was after seven she'd have to sneak in through the back…

She ran her hand through her hair contemplating. That made the decision for her.

She could feel the grit and leaves and tangles clump around her fingers.

This was not presentable.

She would need to shower, and brush, and that would take time.

And then there were the tears still streaming from her eyes.

But she didn't pause until these too, would stop. No, no time. She turned away from the brightening eastern sky on her heel and followed the pavement behind the building.

She surveyed the enclosure around her in a wide, sweeping gaze, taking in the patches of crumbling court wall through thickets of ivy vines. The grass was brown with death despite the onslaught of rain they've been getting since the ground had first thawed.

_It used to be slaughter grounds for meat. _She mused uncharacteristically. _perhaps that's why._

She walked past rough posts with empty lines strung up between them, vibrating tightly in the breeze.

She strode confidently through the yard, knowing this area had been sectioned off decades ago.

But even knowing this, the exposure eventually made her weary. She moved to the side wall instead and held out her palm to run over it's surface, smooth and ragged at the same time.

She walked along the wall and it's ruinous crumblings, stepping gingerly over the fallen rocks and irritating thistles until she came just behind an adjoining shack.

The wood, like the line posts where tried and rough with age, its cracked windows boarded and it's door and handle rusted beyond all use.

She rand her finger just over the splintered wood, following a line of cracks methodically.

_Five up, two left, three at a 70 degree angel…_

She followed this process until her tracing finger fell on a small indent in the wood, half covered with growth.

She dug her nails under a crack running vertically parallel to it and pried open a miniature door that ran lower than her knee and barely allowed her waist as lean as she'd become.

She squeezed her head through and deeply regretted not going feet first instead.

Layers of unsettled dust swirled at her unexpected entrance, circling around her head in a near suffocating halo. The particles swarmed into her system as she gasped for air, reverberating through her in wracking coughs.

She yanked her arm harshly in with her, and bit back a yelp of pain as the skin of her palm tore at the jagged squeeze.

She brought her arm up to her mouth to shield from the dust, and gagged at the warm metallic smell coming from her hand.

She squirmed further through the opening until the tips of her toes where

thoroughly inside, her head brought between her knees to starve off her dizzy spell.

She stood still until the dust settled, then slowly, as if to not anger another storm, she brought her head out between her legs and, breathing deeply, stood.

She examined her hand in a faint bar of light that managed to creep through the window boards. She could barely see detail, but she _could _see it was just a scrape. Confidant with the minority of her abrasion, she let her eyes wander around her.

Recurring gooseflesh crept over her arms as her eyes roamed the shack, chains hanging from the wood beams, seeming to catch a draft, they swayed eerily side to side, their rusted links squeaking unnervingly with the minute movements.

Her earlier musings slithered back to mind.

_This used to be slaughter grounds- maybe that's why._

She shook her head and crept forward, ignoring the shivers down her spine and reminding herself she was on a time limit.

She tread nimbly over the floor boards, placing her feet in awkward positions to avoid squeaks and fallen debris.

She continued to dance her way round and round, her feet finding purchase just shy of rusted butcher knives and brittle bones.

She lunged over a jagged sea of glass, stepping far to avoid the dangerous shatters, and pulled her other foot with her.

Dread pooled in her core when she realized she'd put to much distance between steps.

"_Damn it!" _she rasped, falling suddenly backwards.

Her arms flailed wildly as she fell, beating at the air for something to grab hold of. She swung around blindly, bringing her open hand around in a wide arch. There was a rattle of steel links in the darkness and triumph filled her as her knuckle slapped against a dangling chain. Before it could swing out of reach, she lunged for her life line. Euphoria blooming in her chest as her hands wrapped around the rusted steel.

_No!_

The chain fell uselessly at her grip, hissing above her as it unfurled from the roof beam over her head. She clutched it fruitlessly as she fell, closing her eyes and bracing her self, hoping the material of her coat would be enough to keep the shards at bay-

When the line jerked tight in her hands. Her tense body bounced painfully as it was jerked from the fall. Tears prickled her eyes as her arms were tugged at their sockets, but it was a superficial pain and was barely noticed through her shock.

She almost let go of the chain in surprise, but bit back the initial reaction and blinked it off, hanging there tensely like a tango dancer in a dip.

She climbed up the chain, as a student would in gym class, her out stretched heels dragging lines through the glass until she was propped up enough to solidly plant them on the ground.

Gingerly, as if uncertain she could fully support herself without the chain, she gradually shifted her weight off the steel and onto her legs, which, despite the wicked glass fragments protruding from her shoe heel, where quite stable indeed.

And yet she still clutched the steel length. Her brow furled in irritation at her curled fists, useless.

Absolutely unnecessary. She was steady; her weight was not being supported by a literal wire anymore, there was no reason for her hands to be closed so forcefully around the rusted links, but they were.

With effort that nearly disgusted her she opened her hold, leaving vivid indents on her palms along with new openings in her scrape.

She scrutinized what she could of the chain in the dimness, and around the spot her hand had been there seemed to be a rust spot slightly shinier than the rest, but beside that nothing.

She wasted no more time gallivanting around for clearings, instead striding straight through with an ease that made her wonder why she'd wasted so much time the complicated way in the first place. _So what if I move some knives and splinter some bones? No one comes in here any ways._

She eventually came to a back exit out of the shack, this was larger that the first, and she could exit almost standing.

Grey daylight splashed in when she opened the door and she realized just how much time she'd wasted.

She looked over the back porch from behind a hedge that lined the lower half of the court wall and the shack's door from view.

She shrank back into the shrubbery as she saw the porch door creek open emitting a shriveled nun with glasses that hobbled over a cane.

Dread and relief crept to mind as she accepted the small mercy and larger threat.

She knew that nun. She was one of the elder sisters who been here for well over sixty years, and had become something of a tyrant over the years. Diana wondered sometimes, as she watched her mercilessly beat a variety of children with her cane of darkened ash wood, if she was borne viscous, or was simply forlorn about the days where adults could have the goddamn_ right _to beat insolent brats when they deserved it.

If she even caught a _whiff _of Diana or _thought _she did, she'd beat her on the spot, or hunt her down later, and beat her twice as hard and long for the trouble.

But there was still that small chance.

Over sixty years she'd been a sister of the cloth, over sixty years she'd been dealing with 'godforsaken' (abandoned) youth, and in those sixty years had developed a medley of eye diseases: Cataracts, accommodative disorders, amblyopia (lazy eye), glaucoma- the list goes on.

In short, she had the sight of a bat.

She parted the hedge in front of her and advanced from the thicket when the nun bent over a rose bush flowering by the porch steps.

She filed onward across the lawn, cutting a straight path forward from the hedge to the steps. It was a bold move, it certainly displayed more confidence than she had. but she needed to get back to the dorm as soon as possible, and skirting in the hedge's shadow would take time- not to mention dexterity to avoid fallen roots, twigs, and protruding branches that might rustle the leaves. She was running low on both.

She tread over the soft earth, grateful the passed rain had kept the ground and grass from crunching as it would should it have been dry. With each step the glass in her heels caught some of the light and seemed to spitefully intensify it, gleaming at her feet; bright and telling.

She held her breath as she neared the nun's back, keeping it until she was a hair's length away from the first step, and even then holding it in incase her sudden exhale would reveal her.

Her feet fell mercifully silent as the nun stooped to sniff a crimson bloom.

Her breath was released from her lips in a thin, soundless whisper as she advanced the next step.

The wood sagged suddenly under her foot.

_SQUEEEEEK_

And the first blow, landed on her back.

The wind left her in a graceless gasp, the sudden force throwing her body in forward momentum into the last two remaining steps. The edges dug into her ribs as her face slapped the floor.

With startling speed a swift kick was delivered to her rear. "Up." the hag commanded, this time hooking her foot between her legs when she kicked upward.

She was jerked roughly up on her knees, her torso still limp on the flat porch.

"I said UP!" she barked, her voice mingling with _another_- punctuating the command with one more swift kick between the thighs.

She groaned and supported her weight on her elbows.

_What a beautiful pose._

She sobbed, "_no-"_

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" her shriveled old voice roared, shoving her brutally off balance with a sharp push of her heel.

She let out a strangled cry as she crashed limply onto the porch, her arm falling back and her elbow jerking to a painful angle.

"Up!" she was commanded again, in contrast, whipping her down with a sharp bash of her cane between her shoulder blades. Again and again until she propped herself back to her former position.

_And what a lovely position it is. _

"_shut up." _She gasped.

A blind eye twitched.

"INSOLENT CHILD!" her voice broke, delivering a fast kick to her ribs and a smart crack at her back with the weighted end of her cane in quick succession.

"Leaving the dorms without permission," _Whack- "_entering through a restricted area," _Whack- _"Exiting the premises without proper consent-"

She continued to call out and repeat her offenses as an officer would read out a perpetrator's rights, punctuating each violation with a heavy blow to her body.

Her vision began to dance black after a few short minutes.

_Oh, not yet Di, I'm not done quite yet. _His voice, smooth like silk, and rough as gravel.

_You know me, _

_not _

_until _

_you-_

"_SCREAM!" Whack _

"YOU IMPERTANANT _BRAT!"_

_Whack_

"_SCREAM!"_

And there was a sound of wood slapping against flesh. But to her surprise, she felt nothing.

It sounded again and she flinched involuntarily, although no blow had been delivered.

"Miss. Archer, you shouldn't flinch like that. Like a… dog." Like a bitch.

Her head snapped sharply at the call.

Looming above her was a decrepit old man in black priest robes flanked by two nuns. His eyes were a sickening blue and lined with creases, which seemed almost grotesque against his ruddy complexion. His lips were a dry slash under his nose and his extremely receded hairline was as white as his priest's collar.

"Yes. I'm sorry Father Camstrie."

"I would appreciate it, if you would not use such crude grammar in my presence; I _am _sorry, Father Camstrie."

"I am sorry Father Camstrie." she repeated instantly.

His thin lips pulled back, bearing straight pearls, his eyes narrowing as he did so, like a snake.

It made her skin crawl.

"Oh, I'm sure you are dear. Quite certain." He said it in a whispery tone, lightly. Like it was a joke between a grandfather to his special grandkid.

He made her blood boil.

Father Camstrie clapped his hands heartily and his grin snaked wider.

"But there are more important things to discuss. Come, come, I have need of you, in particular, in my office."

She made a move to get up, when the sound of wood clapped strongly through the morning air. She suppressed the urge to flinch and suddenly realized the old nun had been clapping her cane against her own palm. This time more forcefully, to make her presence known.

Camstrie's gaze shifted above and behind her.

"Yes, sister Madeline?" He said in a controlled tone, but there was no concealing the impatient edge to it.

"I have not completed my punishing of this insolent." She stated with finality.

Camstrie sighed prolonging, and finished with a thoughtful hum.

Finally he knelt down and took Diana's face in his hands, turning her head to look him full on, as if she wasn't already. Although the touch made her sick, she exhaled in spite of herself at the coolness of his hands. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the gold banded ring he had gotten from his last visit to the Vatican all those years ago.

He removed his hand.

She stared breathlessly at him.

"Alright." He whispered. Never breaking contact. "Just not the face."

_Whack._

* * *

**I sincerily hope you read this chapter and enjoyed it. I may have slacked off a bit, But towards the end I decided to finish and put effort into it. This is a longer chapter, longer than any I've written before, 8 pages I think.**

**Well, I hope you enjoyed it, I really do, and I actually enjoyed writing it. **

**I've been thinking of changing the rating to M. What do you think?**

**The next chapter is underway, not finished yet, I only have the first little bit, but we'll see.**

**REVIEW!**


	6. Chapter 5

**I usually find, when I read fanfiction, that having a soundtrack to what I'm reading usually enhances the enjoyment of the chapter, and the story in general. I'm not going to point out any specific songs I'd want you to listen to while reading this chapter, I'd rather leave that up to you, but for the sake of your enjoyment, I would highly recommend that you consider the over all tone of the story so far, open up a tab on youtube, choose a song and listen to that while you read, if you haven't done so already. If you want, please feel free to tell me what you're listening to. Who knows? Maybe I'll like it too.**

* * *

Chapter 5

A draft of warm air wormed it's way in and spread throughout the dorms, enveloping the room in it's chill.

A girl shivered beneath the covers. She drew the comforter in closer around her small frame. The bed was so cold.

There was a warmth, though.

But it was fleeting.

She opened her eyes.

Her first sight was darkness, the dim shapes of her dorm mates silhouetted in shadow were the only distinguishable factors in the room.

Something was wrong.

She could feel it.

She straightened, erecting her spine, her short blond tangles sweeping away from the mattress as she did so, letting the comforter and sheets pool around her middle.

Timidly, she stretched her hand out, feeling the sheets glide beneath her palm.

She felt her throat clench when her fingers crossed the edge.

She was alone.

Her mind was sent reeling at the thought. How could it be?

Her breath quickened as her mind back paddled desperately.

_(Momma?)_

_No, _she insisted. _No, _she was not alone. She refused to accept it. Instead she turned to the only conclusion she'd allow herself.

She was not alone.

_(because the last time she'd woken up alone-) _

It was just a mistake.

_(Momma?) _

Someone else _must_ be here with her. Someone had to be. And she would _hold _her, and_ protect _her, and _never ever leave her._

_(Momma, please!)_

She'd just missed her, that was all. She must've still been sleeping.

_(Momma where are you?)_

She'd just have to wake her.

She curled her hands into small fists, and the six year old pounded at the mattress. She shook the bed to it's foundation, crumpling the sheets, the bed rattling frantically- the springs squealing, the headboard rocking, savagely pounding at the walls-

_Bump, bump, bump._

_(Went the slut and the player.)_

She froze.

Her mouth, the corners once moist from sleep went dry.

"_is someone hurting that girl?" _She whispered.

"IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP I'LL BE THE ONE HURTING YOU!" a gruff voice barked.

And then, as suddenly as lightning a fist burst forward from the darkness and rammed at her skull. It then retreated just as quickly into the darkness, along with it's bearer, back to her own bunk.

She was thrown back into the mattress, her hands flying to her forehead as she fought the throbbing pain in her brow. Whimpering, she rolled on her front and buried her face in the sheets.

When she found it.

It was warm.

But it's warmth was fleeting.

"Momma?" she whispered.

She buried her face in the pillow the Diana had rested in the night before.

Of course, it wasn't her momma.

But it was warm.

So it was good enough.

* * *

Diana marched along a dim corridor to Camstrie's office, the only light filtering through

Time clouded bulbs swinging by suspension cables over their heads, The Madeline following in step. The shadows swayed with the lamps, growing and fading, in cadenced time.

Diana fixed her eyes on the tiled floor beneath her, gritting her teeth against the stabbing pain in her thighs. She watched as her feet followed one another forward, set to a silent pace she'd set for herself;

_One, two, one, two,_

_(Don't limp, don't limp.)_

Her thighs were burning, her limbs pleaded rest.

No.

They _demanded _rest.

Viciously.

She could feel the Madeline's eyes on her back as she marched on, staring daggers from behind, scrutinizing her every move. She felt the hag taking her in and peeling back every protective layer, looking to leave her stripped and bare and beaten.

While enjoying the effort.

So she would thicken the layers.

She grit her teeth and advanced the hallway, letting her thoughts fall to silence with only the clack of her footsteps to guide her.

_One, two, one, two, one- _

The tip of a shoe toe flicked under her raised heel, and she could barely suppress a shriek as she was send flying forward, pin wheeling precariously on her right leg for balance, until she finally stamped her foot down in a lunge in front of her.

The hag had tripped her.

"GET BACK IN MY SIGHTS ARCHER!" the Madeline barked. Diana did nothing to obscure a wince as she once again neared proximity to that dreaded cane.

She made her way back to the Sister, rebuilding her composure in each step-

_One, two, one, two-_

And turned back to face her previous direction, taking her place in front of the blind Madeline.

A wrinkled hand fell on her shoulder.

And for the second time that day, Diana felt the tickle of hair and breath at her ear.

"Father Camstrie has requested your presence in his office, Archer." Madeline whispered, taloned hands closing more forcefully around her shoulder. "He has asked of _me _personally to escort you." her shoulder was almost completely encircled.

"But, make no mistake- I _will _delay that meeting if needed," Her tone grew darker with implied meaning. "to administer disciplinary action." She ended with a hiss.

The Madeline's hand had fully enclosed around her shoulder now, squeezing further. Tears prickled in Diana's eyes and she feared the bone might be wrenched from the socket-

When her hand fell away all together.

"Keep moving, Archer." the Sister hissed.

Diana obliged, setting her pace and keeping sure that she did not stray from the Madeline's sight.

Then, five minutes later-

"FOR GOD'S SAKE SPEED UP ARCHER! _We'll never arrive at the Father's office if you keep Dawdling!_"

Diana grimaced. She could already feel the cane at her back.

* * *

By the time the Madeline had finally steered her to Camstrie's office, every inch of her throbbed in agony.

The withered nun stood behind her silently. Both of them stared at the woodwork before them, waiting, almost expectedly.

She kept her back defiantly to the hag and stood with level posture, although she had abandoned the indifferent façade on her features in exchange for a biting grimace. She had decided, in light of the Madeline's blindness, to indulge herself in the shadows of the corridor. She knew the office that lay behind the wooded ingress would be light, and so revealing. She'd need to cover herself once she stepped inside, she new that.

She'd need to cover herself closely.

The Madeline brushed past her, hobbling over her cane as it stamped the ground. Her ache then flared ten fold.

The hag settled in the door frame, her back to Diana. There was a subtle sound of knuckles rapping against the wood which rang in the stony silence with a sound resonance.

"Oh do come in!" a jovial voice called, still sharp in clarity even after muffling by the walls.

At the summon came a faint click and rattle, as the Madeline twisted the knob and cleared the doorway. The hag stepped to the side. Against the brightness she was all but a dim silhouette, her face and clothes stolen by shadows. But Diana could still feel her eyes on her, glairing, scrutinizing, and above all expecting.

Diana had never once let her posture slip until now, but still she found herself straightening, ignoring the flaring drag in her back and managing to actually _saunter _past the Madeline while making it look effortless.

She had the last pleasure of hearing the hag growl in seething rage, and the final grace to treat her to a mocking smirk.

And she had crossed the thresh hold.

* * *

**I'm horrible to my readers. I know it.**  
**No excuses.**  
**Shit happened and I couldn't update.**  
**I'm sorry.**  
**Review.**


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